Flickering
by Bucken-Berry
Summary: Series of oneshots taking place in my Fading Away universe. Chapter two: Rafael lets go of the life he could have had.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So I've had this idea since May and finally started it today. (I know, I know, I should be updating my other fics. But I just can't focus! It's either these new stories while they capture my attention or nothing.) Basically, it's going to be a series of extended scenes or deleted scenes and other similar additions to my Fading Away 'verse. I already got about 30 ideas, I will come up with more as time goes on, and I'm definitely open to your suggestions though I can't guarantee I'll write all of them.

Chapter one takes place after the park scene in Fading Away, where Olivia and Rafael end up holding hands. I will try to add chapter two reasonably soon (as far as my updates go, haha) though I don't know which scene I'll be writing. Please let me know what you think! A lot of you seemed to like Fading Away even if it made you cry, and I hope to transfer a lot of that here. I'm starting off with a scene that's very sad but NOT heart-wrenching like the main story.

* * *

Joy was flowing through his entire body, filling him with warmth. He hadn't been happy ever since he'd been diagnosed; forget feeling over the moon like this.

His fingers were being squeezed by Olivia, only occasionally let go so she could trace his palm. Their arms were linked. They were walking slowly, looking at the sights Central Park had to offer, coffees lying almost forgotten in their spare hands.

Best of all, Olivia was talking to him softly, words of comfort and encouragement. He was tough, she was telling him, and she knew he could beat this. He'd been doubting it ever since he'd started treatment, but if anything could convince him he'd live, it was her voice.

Even when he felt exhaustion creep up through his body, knew he'd pushed himself too hard and would regret pushing himself tomorrow, he didn't say a word. He didn't want this to end. He felt like the moment Olivia left his line of sight, the scene would melt away and he'd realize he was in a dream. He'd rather a nightmare; at least when he woke up, he would be glad to know it wasn't real.

Eventually he stopped paying attention to the park, instead keeping his eyes on the road in front of him and focusing on Olivia's voice. He could listen forever if she kept talking like that.

Olivia stopped suddenly, frowning at him.

"Hmm?" he muttered distractedly.

"You haven't said a word for fifteen minutes," Olivia informed him.

"Sorry," Rafael said, looking at his watch to confirm her words. "I was… kind of lost in my thoughts." Which was close enough to the truth, he supposed.

"You do have a lot to think about," Olivia said, eying him. "Want to get anything off your chest?"

"No," he said honestly. "I want to pretend nothing's wrong, just for a few hours. Pretend this-" he gestured around the park with one arm- "is all there is to it."

He waited for Olivia to prod, or worse, for her to leave and shatter the day. But she didn't. She just made her way to a bench and motioned for him to sit down again.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes, already feeling the consequences of the last hour. His muscles were starting to ache and he found himself wanting to return home and sleep.

"You okay?" Olivia said, worry clear in her voice.

He smiled faintly and opened his eyes. "Yes," he said, and meant it.

Olivia moved closer to him and then, looking at him carefully, wrapped one arm around his shoulders. His smile grew as he leaned into her, hesitating only briefly before removing his hat and resting his head on her shoulder.

Maybe they were moving too fast, whatever they were now. But he couldn't make himself care enough to slow down himself and Olivia didn't seem interested in slow either. They didn't do slow. It wasn't who they were. Everything was a race, like they'd lose it if they didn't take it fast enough. They probably would, given who they were. That had been true for him even before getting sick, and now…

Now he couldn't imagine taking _anything_ slow again, not knowing time was so limited even if he did get better. He was in his forties. Even if he made a full recovery, there were so many things he needed to do, and he couldn't take his time on any of them.

She stroked his head gently, massaging his temple. He heard a wistful noise escape her and asked, "what?"

"I thought…" she began, but trailed off. Her fingers stilled on his forehead.

"Thought what?" Rafael prompted, then grabbed her hand to encourage her to move again. She smiled down at him and obliged, and he felt calm flooding him.

"I imagined, when I thought about… this…" she said slowly. Her next words came in a rush, like ripping off a band-aid. "I thought about doing this. And I thought- I thought I'd be running my fingers through your hair."

"Oh."

And there was nothing he could say to that. He wanted that too. He wanted his hair back, and he wanted to feel Olivia's fingers stroking through it. He didn't just want his hair, he wanted his health back too. It was finally starting to hit him, how drastically different the rest of his life would be. He usually pushed the thought to the back of his mind, telling himself he needed to focus on now, but it was still there.

He wanted a lot of things. He wasn't sure he was going to get them. Everything felt so uncertain.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said softly, looking down at him.

"Why?" he asked, shifting his head slightly.

"That was insensitive of me."

Rafael laughed. "Olivia, do you remember who I _am_? Do you think I care about sensitivity?"

Olivia didn't smile. "I'm serious. I shouldn't be thinking about your _hair_."

Sighing, he told her, "Better that than asking me if I'm going to die. Looking at me like I'm going to collapse any second. And besides…" He paused, knowing he was taking a risk, knowing he was taking their friendship past a point of no return for better or worse. "I like that you want to touch my hair." He smiled faintly. "I want you to. When it comes back."

"Yeah?" Her thumb strayed, finally coming to rest on his cheek.

He nodded, head rubbing against her shoulder. "I like this." He inhaled. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he couldn't yet, even if that part of him that hated slowness wanted to rush on. He couldn't, not while Olivia was still technically with Cassidy. After two years, he couldn't expect her to toss him aside no matter how much she liked him, and he wasn't sure how much that was yet.

"I like it too," Olivia said. "So… it's a date."

Chuckling wryly, Rafael said, "Good. So we know how we'll celebrate when I get better. Who needs dinner?"

"You don't strike me as that kind of man," Olivia teased.

"No, I am. Any excuse to wear a suit," Rafael said.

She snorted. "You don't need an excuse. If anything, you need an excuse not to wear one."

"What do you call this?" Rafael asked, gesturing down at himself. "I'm wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, for God's sake."

"Fair enough," Olivia said. Silence fell for a few moments and then she sighed. "Rafael…"

"Don't," he interrupted. "I don't… I don't want to hear…" He shook his head. "I don't want to figure out where we'll go from here. I don't want to talk about any of it. I just want to enjoy it. Later? Please?"

He sounded so desperate that Olivia couldn't help but give in. "Okay," she whispered. "But we need to talk later."

Rafael nodded. "I know." So many things he had to do, and almost none of them were things he wanted to face. All he wanted was this, here, now. He wanted Olivia. He didn't want to have to think about things. Didn't want to think that Olivia was either going to tell him she wanted Cassidy or at best, needed time to think about it. Didn't want to think about how he had to go back to his doctor tomorrow, and then he had to talk to his boss about cutting down his workload even more. Didn't want to think that eventually he was going to have to leave this park. He wanted this to last forever- he didn't want to go back to what had been his reality for the last few months. This was so much nicer.

Rafael buried his face in Olivia's neck. He dreaded opening his eyes, dreaded surfacing to reality again. He would lose himself in her for as long as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I can't believe it's been an entire year since I wrote Fading Away!

Thanks for your responses for chapter one. This 'verse is very sad and at times hard to write, so your support makes it all worth it.

Just a quick note on continuity that I meant to put on the first chapter but forgot (and will address in the story at some point but not for a while)- I wrote Fading Away before the SaveBenson arc, when all that was known was that the episode Her Negotiation would place Olivia in mortal danger. As a result, in my universe, Olivia was never tortured- that would simply be too much cruelty. All that happened was that Lewis showed up at her house and Olivia immediately grabbed her gun and shot him, which is what Warren Leight would have written if he had had half a brain.

This chapter takes place in the weeks after Rafael's relapse. Warning: you WILL cry when you read it. I cried like a baby while writing it.

* * *

Before, Rafael Barba had never been a man who dwelt on the past. He wasn't interested in the if onlys or what ifs. But now the bitter thoughts bounced in his head, adding another dimension to his pain. It wasn't enough that he was now a dying man; his mind had to torment him with images of the life he could have had too.

He thought of all the places he'd traveled that he'd never get to show her.

He thought of the birthdays, the holidays, the life events he'd never get to share with her.

He thought of that sleek ring in the jewelry shop down the street that he had been eying for weeks. It would go to someone else now. Some other woman would get what should have been Olivia's, should have been his to give her.

He'd never get to ask that one question, wouldn't get to feel his heart pounding in his chest as he grasped the box in his pocket. Wouldn't get to watch her walk down the aisle, alone but happier for it. Wouldn't get to feel his mouth go dry when he saw her dress.

He wouldn't get to give her the things she wanted so desperately; he never would give her a child, never would give her the stability and love she craved. All he would bring her was more loss and abandonment.

Olivia had promised, that terrible night, that she didn't blame him, but he couldn't see it. How could she not mind that he was leaving her? He was doing what everyone else had done. He shouldn't have eaten so poorly, shouldn't have smoked back in college, should have exercised more.

A tear slipped through his clenched eyelids and he remembered the day he had been so terrified of getting sick again, remembered Olivia stroking his back and shushing him like he was a frightened child. He'd never be able to return the favor. He'd took and took and took and had told himself he'd give later, but now he never would be able to return all those favors.

Olivia, of course, wouldn't have thought of them as favors. She would have seen them as part of love. And he did too, but the fact remained that he had never been able to show her the love she had shown him, because his illness had robbed him of all his chances.

That bitter feeling was flowing through him again, cresting and crashing like a tsunami. Why did it have to be him? Why now? Why couldn't he have had even a year, half a year, of good health before relapsing? Why couldn't the tumor have been treatable again?

The tears were falling quicker now, like salty raindrops, and it was all he could do not to sob and draw Olivia's attention. He thought about where they would be now had he stayed better. They could be in Gstaad at this very moment, skiing down the steep slopes, Olivia teasing that she would have thought him a better skiier than _this_. And he'd make a joke about how he hadn't had much time for skiing last time, and Olivia would ask if he was _trying_ to get himself exiled to the couch for eternity.

They could be in Paris. She'd always wanted to go and he would have brought her, he really would. He would have found a way to move there if that was what she wanted. They'd drink fancy wine and he'd horrify Olivia by pretending to want to try snails. Then he would laugh and say he may be an omnivore, but he had standards. They'd go to a hotel and he'd bring out that beautiful, perfect ring that he would have somehow gotten past airport security without Olivia seeing…

God, it wasn't fair. He'd never hurt anyone, had always tried to help. Sure, he hadn't been the easiest to get along with- he had been an honest-to-God jerk at times- but he had changed and always been a truly good person. All he wanted was what things had been a month ago. His life ahead of him once more, the promise of a lifetime with Olivia. That was all he wanted from life, but even that was too much, it seemed.

He would have made her happy. He had never wanted a child before but would have had as many as Olivia wanted. He'd change jobs, switch to Calhoun's firm to get a bigger paycheck, so he could keep their family's mouths fed. He would have kept them all happy and healthy.

His breath was ragged by now, and he could barely see through his tears. Soft cries were escaping him, but he muffled them with the small quilt on the sofa. Olivia would want to know how much he was hurting, but he couldn't let her see this. He couldn't explain why but he felt like this had to be done alone.

Chest heaving, he continued to spin painfully beautiful memories he would never have. Newborns crying, days at the beach, birthday cakes, puppies, Christmases, Sundays at church with Eddie and his family, promotions, vacations.

He pulled out a pen and piece of paper and wrote them down one-by-one, and then, finally, when he couldn't stand any more, he let them go. He walked outside, muscles shaking, and started a small fire that he fed the paper to. Watched what should have been his future get consumed by a red and orange monster. He fought to regain his breath, but the closest he ever came these days was a wheezy sensation in his chest, a feeling that there should be more air inside but he couldn't make his lungs accept it. Crying only made it worse.

He blew the flame out and then scooped up the ashes in his hands. He took in a shaky breath and stepped to the railing, letting the pieces scatter in the wind.

The life that might have been his was gone for good now. He'd never get it back. All he had was a short number of months with Olivia. He'd cherish them, but there would come a point when he hated every second of his existence.

But Olivia would be with him. The knowledge that he wouldn't be alone steadied him, just a little. He'd never be able to bring her to Paris, but he would have something with her, and something was far better than nothing. This was the closest he would get to what could have, would have, should have been his.

He let the burning redness fade from his eyes, let the soreness in his throat clear, so that he no longer appeared to have been crying. Then he wove his way to their bedroom and slipped between the blankets, shaking Olivia's shoulders.

"Hmm?" she muttered, more asleep than awake.

Rafael kept shaking her shoulder and she finally woke up. "Rafael?" she said softly.

Rafael thought, then rolled to his side and wrapped one arm around her waist. Running the other through her hair, he whispered, "I'm sorry…. I'm sorry things are how they are…" his voice cracked a little, but he had no more tears. They had run out on the balcony. "But that's all I have… and…" He took a shuddering breath, "That's all I have, but I want to share it with you." He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and rested his head against her cheek.

Soft, almost like a prayer, he whispered four more words. "I love you, Olivia."


End file.
